


you (or the dream of you)

by puckstrxck



Series: mountain magic in the works [2]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Dreamsharing, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pining, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:29:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27087121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/puckstrxck/pseuds/puckstrxck
Summary: Josty visits JT's Dream, and has a tiny taste of his dreams coming true.Just a taste, though. That's the nature of Dreams.
Relationships: J. T. Compher/Tyson Jost
Series: mountain magic in the works [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1754692
Comments: 4
Kudos: 35





	you (or the dream of you)

**Author's Note:**

> If you found this by googling yourself or someone you know, please do us both a favour and click away.
> 
> This fic's inspired by barefootstarz's amazing fics, and by Sabrina Benaim's spoken word poem, The Truth Has Three Sides
> 
> You don't need to read the first fic in the series to follow this one - I'm just having fun writing magical Avs. 
> 
> Here's to Dreams, to barefootstarz's kindness and patience and beta-ing, and to writing tiny fics (to dodge the guilt of not writing HBB fic)

Tyson Jost is a Dreamwalker, descended from a long line of Dreamwalkers - long enough that the Josts don’t know whether the OG Jost had been blessed or cursed with the Gift. 

Most of the time, it’s great, getting to connect with loved ones without travelling across the country to see them. Josty doesn’t bother with, like, Ancestry.com or anything, so he only knows the relatives he knows, but North America’s pretty huge and it’s nice to be able to see Grandpa Jost whenever, even though they’re not, like, really there. 

His mom, Laura, calls it a safe haven. A home away from home - he’s always welcome in her Dreams. And when he stays away for too long, she’s swinging by his anyway, whether to scold or to check on him or to just admire whatever colour he’s decided to paint the skies in his Dreams. 

His sister, Kacey, calls it a pocket dimension. Sure, it might not be real, but what is? Who says real is the only thing that matters?

(Kacey’s a more powerful Dreamwalker than Laura and Josty - she can enter Dreams even when she’s not wanted, even another Dreamwalker’s. Josty had found that out the hard way, when she’d Walked in on him talking to Dream!Jonathan Toews about his play, back before Tazer even knew he existed. But then, Josty still kinda finds it hard to believe that Jonathan Toews knows he exists.) 

Most of them don’t even question it anymore—it just _is._

They’re not witches, not mages, very much fully human, thanks. Laura’s the closest thing to an actual magic-user, maybe, with her ability to visit someone’s Dream and turn it into a Nightmare. But she can’t really do much aside from fucking up someone’s sleep schedule. 

They’re just Dreamwalkers; it comes as naturally to the Josts as breathing, as sleeping. 

And sometimes Tyson Jost in particular likes to go Walking. 

* * *

He starts in his own Dream, like he always does. He’s never sure where the gap between sleeping and Dreaming is—it’s not even like he steps through a mental or metaphysical doorway or anything, and he probably wouldn’t have recognised it even if he did. 

Laura says that Josty’s style is more instinctive, intuitive. Kacey says her brother struts his way into Dreams all ‘no thots, head empty’. They maybe both mean the same thing. 

But Josty steps into his Dream and everything’s right where he left it, down to the basketball hanging in mid-air, waiting for him to step in as though accepting the perfect pass for the buzzer beater shot. The air is a soft pink, low-hanging clouds like rainbow tufts of cotton candy, gives everything a soft, fuzzy quality, and Josty could probably lie down on the golf lawn-basketball court and—well, not nap, really, there’s no such thing as sleeping in a Dream. 

But there _is_ a zoning out, a letting-be and letting-God that feels like what Willy makes meditation sound like. Josty’s never known how to meditate in the real world, or the non-pocket dimension, or whatever you call it. But he’s never had trouble here. 

He just—doesn’t feel like it, though, and doesn’t feel like playing basketball either, or Inviting Kerfy over to his dream so he can beat his ass at Fortnite for the five millionth time running, or Inviting Willy over and making him cook. 

He feels like Walking, and even though his sleep is always more fitful, always less restful, when he does, and even though they’re probably too deep into a playoff run for him to go Walking far, Josty’s never been one to deny himself. 

* * *

It’s like stepping through that doorway again, the one that isn’t there—one moment, he’s idly wondering if LeBron James had ever made a shot from all the way on the other end of the court, even in a Dream, and the next he’s in someone else’s Dream. 

(Not just _someone else’s._ It’s rarely just _someone else’s_. Even when Josty means to just go wandering, decides to visit his teammates one by one to see how they’re doing, he usually starts with JT and ends up staying there.)

It’s JT’s Dream, which means he’s seeing Dream!JT, and not the Dream!JT that Dream!Josty Dreams up whenever he really misses JT but can’t have JT wondering why he’s dreaming about his ex-housemate for the third night in a row. 

They’re different JT’s - Josty can’t quite figure out how, can’t bother even trying to put it into words, but it just _is._ Dream!Josty’s Dream People are how his not-really-subconscious mind shape them. Tazer, for example, that first time Josty Invited him, had already known Josty’s playing style and had cheered for Josty’s last goal, and had believed in Josty’s ability to make the Avs. 

That’s what Josty had needed at the time - someone to believe in him without, like, the biological impulse to do it - and that’s what Dream!Josty had given him. 

If he were to Walk into Tazer’s dream now, Tazer would know his play only from the times they’ve played each other, if that. He’d be friendly, but a little curious, a little confused, not sure why he’s dreaming of this kid from the Avs. There’s a chance Tazer would actually remember the Dream, after he wakes, because that Dream is Tazer’s. 

Josty usually prefers visiting JT in his Dreams, instead of Inviting him over. It’s better that way—he doesn’t know if he’d make JT nicer, or funnier, or more handsome, or whatever, when he Invites JT into his Dreams. He doesn’t really wanna know if he lowkey wants JT nicer, or funnier, or more handsome. 

The JT that exists - the real JT, the one that exists in the dimension that _matters_ , whatever Kacey says - is pretty devastating all on his own. There’s, like, only so much Josty could take. 

Josty’s Walking takes him directly to JT - almost makes him stumble over JT, really, and it’s on the tip of his tongue to bitch at JT to watch where he’s lying down when JT flashes him a grin that’s simply: devastating. 

JT’s lying on his back, in the middle of a golf course that’s fully _just_ a golf course because he doesn’t have any creativity. The sky’s even a pretty normal shade of blue, if a pretty, sort of calm sort of blue; the kind of _crisp_ blue that has Josty inhaling in slow and deep, like he’d be able to taste snow on his tongue if he did, even though it feels too warm for snow. 

The deep breath might have something, or nothing, to do with the smile. Josty hopes this is one of the Dreams JT doesn’t end up remembering. It would be par on the course for most of JT’s dreams. 

(One time, they had been in JT’s Dream together when they’d decided to run through the whole Pirates of the Caribbean movie series, with JT as Captain Jack Sparrow and Josty as Elizabeth Swann, except Captain JT Compher and Tyson Jost had ended up making out in the captain’s cabin and had almost missed the whole undead army: part 1 thing. 

The next day, when Josty had casually asked JT how he slept, JT had shrugged and said he’d woken up both needing a piss and thirsty. 

“At the same time?” Kerfy had asked from his spot at the breakfast nook, intrigued, like that says something really serious about JT’s mental state or nightly piss habits, and JT had shrugged, going a little red in the ears like he hadn’t meant to divulge so much personal information re his mental state or nightly piss habits.)

“You’re late,” JT tells him, which is bullshit but, like, kinda funny bullshit. Josty collapses onto the ground beside him, knowing that the ground’s not gonna hurt, and man, he’d kill to have that kind of certainty in his not-Dream life. 

“Yeah, you really look like you’re rushing, bud,” he chirps back. 

Josty shifts a little to rest his head on JT’s chest - JT’s a lot cuddlier in his Dreams, which is bullshit and, like, kinda sad bullshit - but an offended _meow_ stops him. His head hovers in the air somewhere above JT’s shoulder, uncomfortable in the way Dreams usually aren’t, and he angles his head further back to check that cat!JT hadn’t made a return. 

JT’s still grinning, all cute and excited, and Josty wants so badly to kiss him again, but he never initiates kisses with Dream!JT, and he’s never gotten to kiss not-Dream!JT, and besides—JT’s grins mean something, usually. 

In this case, it means another meow, on the other side of Josty’s head, so he turns his head slowly around - still hoovering a little above JT - until he catches sight of the large orange kitten curled just a little ways above the cut of JT’s hips. 

Which—”when did you take your shirt off?” Josty asks, because the cat’s important, but so is not faceplanting into JT’s bare abs if JT didn’t, like, mean him to. 

JT’s whole torso shifts a little, like he’s shrugging it off, but he’s blushing all down his strategically bared chest, and Josty can practically feel the heat of it rise through the space between their skin, to warm Josty’s own cheeks. 

“Okay,” Josty says, even though it isn’t—except it is, kind of, when JT lets out a huff of amusement, curling his fingers into Josty’s hair and pressing his head gently down into JT’s bare torso.

The dude’s nipple is, like, right there, in licking-range, even, and Josty knows he’s in trouble when he’s thinking the words ‘dude’ and ‘nipple’ in the same breath. 

“Cat,” he says, a little desperately, his voice a little choked, but his tongue’s firmly in his mouth and that’s a win, thanks. 

“Your cat,” he adds, because his desperately Dream!brain now equates words to winning, and even though JT absolutely knows what he means - it’s, like, his fucking cat, afterall - Josty has to clarify, “It’s you, when you were a cat.” 

“I know, you sent me the pictures,” JT says, and his voice is dry but his fingers are gently stroking through Josty’s hair, occasionally rubbing at the tip of his ear, and that’s - so nice. Not to say that his voice isn’t nice. JT’s so nice, and within licking-range. 

(Josty had sent the team groupchat the pictures he’d taken of when JT had been transformed into a cat by his a-tad-bit-irate-and-more-than-a-little-magical sister for about twenty four hours; more than enough time for Josty to take about twenty four thousand pictures, and for EJ to then wallpaper JT’s stall with most of the pictures.

So, like, JT definitely knows what he’d looked like as a cat. Josty doesn’t know why the cat’s _here_ , though.)

At least the cat’s chill with the way Josty’s desperately staring at it - him - Dream!Cat!JT? - for an explanation, or at least a distraction, or at least potential judgement if Josty decides to give in and lick JT’s nipple. 

The cat meows again, pads a little closer across the planes of JT’s chest - and is it, like, Josty’s imagination, or does Dream!JT look way more cut than he does in not-Dreams? It’s probably that Josty doesn’t usually get to be this close. 

It, he, whatever, doesn’t stop until the cat’s nose is directly pressed against Josty’s. And then he licks Josty’s nose, not at all sandpaper-rough like Josty knows cats’ tongues are like. It feels, just—mocking, maybe. Definitely knowing. 

“Your cat’s a dick,” Josty tells JT, and he’s glad his voice is more normal now. Dream!Cat!JT - like Cat!JT - is more calming, is easier to be around than human!JT, Dream or no. That’s a terrible thing to know. 

“Yeah?” JT asks, and he’s sounding relaxed, too, even as his hand slips down to rub against the back of Josty’s neck. Josty shivers a little, but then he’s relaxing further, melting into the ground and into JT’s chest - and if this is some weird competition JT has running with his Cat!self, josty’s so down to adjudicate. 

It _is_ a competition, as it turns out, because then JT’s adding, a little accusatory for God knows what reason, “you were fine with the fucking cat when it was me.”

“The cat _is_ you?” Josty points out, confused. “Like, this one too, right?” he asks, unsure now, and JT shrugs again under him. This time, with Josty pressed against him, Josty can feel the shift of muscle under his skin, and Josty wants to, like. Melt into JT’s muscles, maybe, be warm and safe and, like. Held by JT. 

That would be a nice Dream. 

“I don’t know, man, it’s a cat,” JT says, which makes sense, Josty supposes. A metaphysical Dream cat, then, designed by JT’s subconscious self, even though it’s purring just like JT had when he’d been a cat. 

“You were fine cuddling me when I was a cat,” JT adds, like Josty had been rude and interrupted, though in fairness, Josty supposes he had. “And then I turned back, and you were gone. Fucking rude, bro.” 

Josty feels himself grow still and stiff, holds himself in that position without really meaning too until not-Cat!JT moves closer to him again, until it’s pressing the whole side of its tiny ginger body against Josty’s face. Its fur feels like cotton candy, but without the stickiness. 

It reminds Josty of his own Dream, of his soft pink sky and cotton candy clouds. He wonders if this is him, or the Dream of him, and wonders if they are one and the same. He wonders if it matters. 

“Sounds like you wanna be held, bro,” Josty says into the cat’s fur, his voice perfectly unmuffled despite it, and JT shrugs again, like he means to rock Josty into a world where this is fine and normal and alright. 

It isn’t, really. Josty hadn’t wanted to have this talk, but he’d wanted it too, and now they’re having it and JT probably won’t even remember it when he wakes up. He usually doesn’t, most people don’t. And it sucks. 

“Guess I did, _bro,”_ JT replies, the last word mocking, or maybe self-mocking, because there’s another doorway and then Josty’s in JT’s arms, his cheek resting against JT’s shoulder, the cat gone. 

“I think that’s why the cat was here. I wanted you to be here. And now here you are.”

“And here I am,” Josty echoes, smiling a little, nuzzling it into the curve of JT’s lips because he’s pretty sure he’s allowed, now, in this one Dream. JT initiated it.

“Yeah, Josty. I was waiting for you. What the fuck took you so long?” JT asks, and his voice is so soft, sweet as cotton candy, just not as sticky. Josty almost wishes it could be - that way, he’d have an excuse for getting stuck in it. 

“Maybe I had things to do, you dick,” Josty argues, mostly for the sake of arguing. He curls his fingers into the grass, wishes he could curl them in JT’s hair too. Maybe tug his head back by that alone, gentle but firm, enough of a bite to the touch because God knows JT likes his everything with a little bite to them. “People to see. Cats to cuddle.” 

JT snorts at the last, the sound offended—maybe too much of a bite, then. JT’s always been more of a puppy kind of guy anyway, which Morgan had definitely known when she’d turned him into a kitten. _Sisters,_ man. Josty can relate. 

“You’re not the only Dream I visit, you know,” Josty says over JT’s—everything. Because they don’t talk nearly enough, not about everything that matters. 

(They talk about some of the things that matter—how much they each love their families, how rough the holidays are without them, whatever latest prank EJ is planning, how Nate’s trying a new diet and will almost definitely be at least 92% grumpier than he usually is, how they’re each deathly scared of getting traded away, always, each time a new article comes out, provoking a barrage of recycled tweets.) 

Josty regrets saying the word almost immediately. _Dream._ It’s a trigger, for a lot of people, enough reminder that Dreams _exist._ Dreams exist, this is weird enough to be a Dream, _obviously_ this is a Dream and nothing that happens in it _matter._

That’s the way of Dreams—odd and brief, a pocket-world that exists within and acts independent of the laws and impulses and rules of the rest of the world. The Real world. 

Josty can watch - has to watch - the realisation play over JT’s features, the way he sinks into the knowledge—so deeply that Josty’s half-worried, for a second, that JT’s going to wake up and leave him here, in not even a Dream, but in the hollow shell of a Dream. 

(Josty’s done that before, when he’d accidentally Walked into Gabe’s Dream. Gabe’s some kind of Fae Prince, is weird as all get-out, and he’d known instantly that Josty wasn’t meant to be there. He’d left in a huff, taking Dream!Tyson Senior with him, and Josty had been left in a world suddenly leached of colour, of invention, of anything that made it a living thing. If Dreams could be classified as living things.)

This is a Dream; Dream!JT knows that now, has fully embraced the fact, and has decided to stick around anyway. It sparks something like hope, in Josty - there and gone again, when it’s clear that Dream!JT’s taken it to mean that none of this _matters._

Which—he’s not wrong, whatever Kacey says. 

“Visit all the Dreams you want,” JT tells him, like he has any say in things, and Josty has a brief, intense impulse to tell him about Gabe. He’s never talked to any of his teammates about his Walking, not even Gabe, but what does it matter? 

“You’ll come to me anyway, eventually,” JT adds, and that’s presumptuous as fuck, and he’s wrong anyway—Josty always visits him first. 

There’s another doorway, and the sky’s filled with stars, stars all around them—they’re hovering mid-sky, now, if there’s a mid- when the ground’s just _gone_ , and Josty knows that JT has slipped further into his Dream, further away from anything true. 

“It doesn’t matter,” JT confirms, after a brush of his lips - light, lighter than anything - against Josty’s lips. “I’d wait all night for you. I’d wait a lifetime.” 

It’s Josty who presses in, greedy and needy and wanting something more than words - the words _hurt_ , knowing that they’re just Dream!words _hurt_ \- and it’s JT who kisses him back, who gives him everything he needs, then - with another nudge through another doorway - gives him even more. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> AND THEY HAD PRACTICE IN THE MORNING AND DIDN'T LOOK EACH OTHER IN THE EYE THE WHOLE TIME.  
> thanks for reading! if you'd like to say hi, come and hmu @ puckstrxck on twitter!


End file.
